Paraguay

Cavalry charge

FIRST they seized the cavalry headquarters. Then they drove a file of armoured cars to the Congress building, blasting a hole in its façade. Led by a bunch of junior army officers and retired colonels, the coup against Paraguay's feeble and unpopular government late on May 18th got off to a menacing start. The high command hesitated. But, under prompt pressure from Brazil and the United States, they sent loyal units to round up the rebels, threatening to use the air force against them if they did not surrender.

The rebels were supporters of Lino Oviedo, Paraguay's former army chief and serial plotter. After a failed coup in 1996, Mr Oviedo was eventually sentenced to ten years in jail, only to be let out after his friend, Raul Cubas, was elected president in 1998. But in March 1999, the vice-president, Luis Maria Argaña, the leader of a rival faction in the long-ruling Colorado Party, was assassinated. Mr Oviedo and Mr Cubas were accused of arranging the murder, and fled to Argentina and Brazil respectively.

Argentina's new government threatened to deport Mr Oviedo. Taking no chances, he disappeared a few days before the government took office, and now claims to be living clandestinely in Paraguay. This latest uprising was led by some of his best-known supporters, though, once it had failed, he issued an unconvincing denial of involvement.

He must have thought the moment ripe for his return. Paraguay's economy has stagnated for the past two years. Poverty is rising, unemployment is at 16%, and corruption is unchecked. President Luis Gonzalez Macchi owes his job to having been head of the Senate when Mr Cubas resigned and Argaña was murdered. He has stupidly refused to submit himself to a fresh presidential election, and is deeply unpopular. In a recent opinion poll, 70% of those asked said they were better off under the 1954-89 dictatorship of General Alfredo Stroessner, of whom Mr Gonzalez is a disciple.

Until the attempted coup, the government had been drifting like a ship without a rudder, says Carlos Martini, a political scientist at Asuncion's Catholic University. Now it is trying to seize the advantage: the cavalry division, the core of Mr Oviedo's support, is to be broken up and moved out of the capital. With several pro-Oviedo deputies under house arrest, the government plans to push through the lower house of Congress a bill, already approved in the Senate, to privatise the telecoms, water and railway companies and to cut the vast central-government bureaucracy. Another bill would raise taxes to cut the growing budget deficit—though the government might do better trying to collect existing taxes, which are widely dodged. But these are unpopular measures, which have been stalled for years.

The government may be able to count on an improving economy, thanks to a good soyabean harvest and economic recovery in Brazil. And though the opposition walked out of what had been a national-unity government earlier this year, it poses little threat. Despite the Colorados' misrule, Argaña's son looks likely to win an election for the vice-presidency in August. It may be only a matter of time before Mr Oviedo tries again.